The house was silent, as it usually was. It’s not like Earving made much noise anyway.

You hadn’t noticed when he made his way up behind you until his burnt lips made contact with the back of your neck.

His hands slowly came over your wrists, a silent indication he wanted to help cook. After all, you did so much for him already, Earving wanted to take the stress off you.

He smiled into your hair, then kissed your ear. When you finally gestured for him to cut some veggies, Earving grinned.

Little moments like this made him feel normal- like he wasn’t Vought’s pawn, like he wasn’t Homelander’s puppet. He was Earving, and he was yours.